“I don’t know,” she sobs.
“It’s Zoe’s fault,” Caitlyn squeals. “She beat on her for nothing.”
Mr. Jeffries glares at me. He takes us to Vice-Principal Watson, Suckhole limping on his arm.
Mr. Watson frowns. “What happened?”
“She started it,” I say.
He shushes me and looks to Princess Suckhole.
“Zoe called me a h-h-ho and slammed me against the lockers and I was just saying I wished her granny well after what happened at the Bird House.”
Mr. Watson suspends me for three days.
* * *
Back home, my parents sit me down at the kitchen table.
Mom pulls out a hanky. “How will we face your Aunt Jess and Uncle Chad?”
On your hands and knees, like always?
Dad slams his hand on the table. “You’re grounded for a month. And we’re taking your phone.”
“Not again!”
“Two months,” Dad says. “Madi tried to be nice and what did you do? Threw Coke in her face, tore into her family, tossed her to the ground—”
“That’s not how it happened.”
“Your granny, she works you up. No more Granny till the weekend.”
“I hate you. I wish you were dead.”
Mom’s lip trembles. “What did we do to deserve this?”
“You got pregnant, that’s what. Why didn’t you get rid of me? I wish you had.” I run to my room, smother my face in my pillow. A whirlwind of hollers. “LEAVE ME ALONE LEAVE ME ALONE LEAVE ME ALONE!” I keep it up till they do.
15
Tuesday noon. We’ve been summoned to Aunt Jess and Uncle Chad’s for lunch, so I’m in my church clothes. I feel like a reject from Convent Runway. We park on the street ’cause Uncle Chad’s moved their minivans from the garage to the driveway.
“Did you bring the umbrella?” I ask as we dodge their sprinkler.
“Behave.”
Dad does his shave-and-a-haircut tap with the lion’s head knocker. Naturally, they make us wait. Dad raps two more times. Finally, Aunt Jess opens the door. “Come in,” she says, like this is a pleasant surprise.
“Shall we take off our shoes?” Dad asks hopefully.
“No, leave them on.”
Wise.
Uncle Chad’s wearing an open-neck polo shirt: his chest hair looks like a Brillo pad. “Have a seat.” He points us to their leatherette sectional.
“I’d forgotten how lovely your place is,” Mom says, looking around at all the gold frames and zebra rugs.
“Well, it’s home.” Aunt Jess wheels in her mother’s antique trolley with coffee, cucumber sandwiches and Sara Lee brownies. Everybody gets served except me. Aunt Jess and Uncle Chad lean back in their matching La-Z-Boys.
“It hasn’t been a happy week, has it?” Aunt Jess sighs.
Mom shakes her head. “It surely hasn’t. Please know we’re sorry about the incident at the school yesterday. Aren’t we, Zoe?”
I suck it up and nod.
Aunt Jess looks to Uncle Chad. He folds his hands across his belly. “So, Tim … How do you propose we handle the situation?”
“No need for you and Jess to fuss yourselves.” Dad shifts in his seat. “Carrie and I can take care of things.”
“Oh?”
“Not that it’s your fault,” Aunt Jess interrupts. “We haven’t had to deal with a challenge like yours, have we, Chad?”
Hello, I’m in the room.
Uncle Chad keeps staring at Dad.
Say something, Dad. He’s making you look stupid!
“If you weren’t family, there’d be lawsuits,” Uncle Chad says. “Assault’s a serious matter.”
“Assault.” Dad heh-hehs. “That’s a little extreme, isn’t it?”
“Not after the threats.”
“What threats?” Mom goes whiter than china.
“Madi’s friends, Katie and Caitlyn, have told us things we can’t repeat,” Aunt Jess says.
“Whatever they said, they’re lying,” I go.
Everyone stares at me like I’m a bug on Planet Squish Me.
Aunt Jess bites her lip. “There’s also the slanders against our family. Zoe told everyone that Chad’s uncle passed out on the train tracks. She said dogs ate his … I can’t even say it.”
Mom covers her mouth.
“Of course, our main concern is the young woman upstairs crying her eyes out,” Uncle Chad says. “What hurts her the most is, she was attacked by her cousin: the best friend she’s defended all these years.”
What?
Dad looks at me sternly, so Uncle Chad will think he’s tough. “What do you have to say?”
How about, Bite me? “Sorry.”
“Perhaps you’d like to tell Madi that?” Aunt Jess calls up the stairs. “Honey, your cousin has something to say to you.”
Suckhole limps down the stairs on the opposite foot from yesterday. Aunt Jess gives up her La-Z-Boy and plumps herself on the armrest, holding Suckhole’s hand.
I look at the centre of Suckhole’s forehead. “I’m sorry about yesterday.”
Saint Suckhole bats her eyes. “I forgive you. I’m really sad about your granny. I’m sorry if you heard me wrong.”
Uncle Chad tosses my folks a look that says, That’s how to raise a daughter.
“Zoe,” Mom nudges me, “would you like to say, ‘Thank you, Madi.’?”
“Thank you, Madi. I’m sorry if I heard you wrong, too. Your parents said I was your best friend. That’s why I didn’t understand when you said I couldn’t sit with you in the caf, or talk to you, or be treated like a human being.”
“Pardon?” Apparently Aunt Jess has a hearing problem.
I bat my eyes. “Madi says I can’t even say hello, I’m such a loser.”
The grown-ups look shocked, ’cause, of course, Saint Suckhole would never say such a thing.
Suckhole takes a deep breath and goes for the Oscar. “I’m so sorry I said that. I was just worried about my reputation. I was afraid people might think I do what you do because we’re cousins.”
“Like what?” I go.
“Don’t make me say.”
“Madi, if there’s something your aunt and uncle should hear, you need to tell them,” Uncle Chad says.
“It may not even be true,” Suckhole says. “You know how boys talk.”
I leap up. “That is so—”
“Sit!” Dad orders.
“But—”
“SIT!”
I do. Why? ’Cause everyone’s staring at me, that’s why. ’Cause it doesn’t matter what I say, that’s why. ’Cause I’m me and she’s her, that’s why.
“You go upstairs and rest,” Aunt Jess tells Suckhole.
Poor Herself wobbles to her feet with an ow face. “It was nice seeing you, Aunt Carrie, Uncle Tim. When you’re back at school, Zoe, please sit at my table again.” With that, Our Lady of Perpetual Bullshit hops up the stairs on one foot.
Uncle Chad and Aunt Jess stare at my parents. Mom and Dad look like they want to hide under the tea trolley.
“You’ll recall that boarding school Chad told you about last summer?” Aunt Jess passes Mom a brochure from the trolley. “It’s tough love, dawn to dusk.”
“YOU GUYS WANT TO SHIP ME TO BOARDING SCHOOL?”
She looks at me like I’ve made her point. I shrink.
“I guess that’s it then,” Uncle Chad says. He and Aunt Jess show us out. They pretend not to notice we’re soaked by the sprinkler.
Mom rocks in her car seat as we turn the corner. “I’ve never been so embarrassed.”
“At least not today,” I mutter.
Dad grips the wheel. “This isn’t a joke. One more problem and you will be off to that school, even if it takes the store money.”
“You’d lock me up like Granny?”
“We can’t let you ruin your life,” Dad says. “We love you.”
I cross my arms and stare out the window. “Right.” See if I ev
er tell you anything again.
16
As soon as we get back, I go to the kitchen phone and call Granny.
“Granny, hi. If you’ve been calling, sorry, I haven’t got your messages. Mom and Dad took my phone. They say I can’t see you till the weekend.”
“What?” Granny says. “Put your dad on.”
I hold out the receiver. “Granny wants to talk to you.” Dad glares at me. “Well, she does.”
He takes the phone. “Mother, Zoe didn’t give you the full picture. She had an incident with Madi.”
“Madi?” Granny’s so angry I can hear her across the kitchen. “What did that little brat do to Zoe this time?”
“It wasn’t Madi’s fault, Mother … Mother, calm down … Please, Mother …”
I give Mom and Dad a finger wave and disappear into my room. If I were Uncle Teddy, I’d take off. Mom and Dad wouldn’t miss me. They’d be glad I wasn’t around to embarrass them. I almost wish I was dead, only then Suckhole would make it all about her. She’d be Mourner-In-Chief, guys lined up with Kleenex boxes.
Mom knocks on my door. “Dinner.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“Suit yourself.”
I come out two hours later. Mom and Dad are sitting in the dryer chairs watching a stupid TV show. My meal is on the table. Cold lasagna and Jell-O.
“We’ve decided it’s best if your Granny doesn’t have her cellphone anymore. It gets her upset.”
I pretend I don’t hear. I pretend I don’t care. They are so going to pay.
* * *
Next morning at breakfast, I don’t say anything, just grin like a puppet.
“Sleep well?”
Nod.
“What are you thinking?”
Shrug.
“Say something.”
Eyebrows up: What?
Back in my room I get ready for round two.
Mom’s gals start arriving at nine o’clock. Today is special ’cause a lot of them haven’t seen her since Granny’s lock-up. They’re all, “Carrie, you’re a saint.” I wait till the place is jammed, then make my entrance.
Mom’s washing Mrs. Connelly’s hair; Mrs. Stuart is under a dryer; the rest are at the dinette set. When they see me, they freeze.
“Good morning,” I say with a big smile.
They look surprised, ’cause all I’ve ever done before is grunt. I pick up a hairdo magazine and sit in a roller chair.
“So, Zoe,” Mrs. Connelly says, “is school off today?”
“For me,” I say, sweeter than Suckhole. “I got suspended for tapping my cousin Madi. Apparently she’s dying.”
“That’s not funny,” Mom says.
“Sorry,” I go, like a scolded puppy. “I’m actually very concerned.”
Mom gives me That Look.
“Well, I am. Seriously. I’m whatever you want me to be.” Go ahead. Yell at me and look like a crazy person.
Mom’s beyond tense: I imagine her drowning Mrs. Connelly in the sink by accident. I mime zipping my lips with a finger and go back to reading. The gals squirm and stare at the TV where some morning show guest is going on about chasing tornadoes in a Jeep.
After the gals leave, Mom’s so mad I expect her wig to melt. “Don’t ever do that again.”
“What?”
“You know what.”
I check my nails. “You’ve always told me to socialize.”
* * *
At dinner, Mom tells Dad about me making a spectacle of myself. Yeah, I’m a one-girl Cirque du Soleil. They lecture me about a bunch of stuff. Consideration? Respect? Growing up? I’m not really sure ’cause I’m not really listening: I’m staring at Mom’s wig. She fusses with it. Dad sweats up a storm. Cool.
“Blah blah blah!” Dad throws down his napkin.
“Blah blah blah!” Mom pushes back her chair.
“Thanks for the meal,” I go. “We must do this again sometime.”
* * *
Thursday I spend the day missing Granny. When I’m bored I go to the bathroom. “Don’t worry, I’m not coming out,” I holler for the gals. “I just have to pee!” I also make up satanic spells and try them on Suckhole. Apparently they don’t work any better than prayers. If they did, there’d have been a big Ka-boom! from the high school.
At dinner we’re like robots studying Conversational Human. Mom dabs her eyes with her serviette. Dad’s eyebrows do push-ups. Back in my room, I flop on the bed and stare at the ceiling fan.
What would happen if I stuck my head between the fan blades?
I hear Mom talking to Dad. “Greenview called this afternoon. They can’t get your mother to bathe. They’ve tried the last three mornings. She throws things at them.”
If you woke with strangers trying to take off your clothes, wouldn’t you?
I go to the bathroom, fill up the tub, stick my head underwater and scream.
17
Friday morning. First period back in school, I slump in my seat, jacket on, daring Ms. Bundy to ask me a question. She doesn’t. Good.
Suckhole shows up for English, period two. She’s got crutches plastered with autographs and happy-face stickers. She glances back at me from the front. DIE, BITCH, DIE. At the bell, she waits by the door like she wants to talk. I push past like she isn’t there. She catches up with me at my locker.
“Stalker much?” I dump my books.
“Zoe …”
“What?”
She bites her lip. “I’ve been thinking—”
“That’s a first.”
“Please, Zoe. You’re right. I’ve been a total bitch.”
“Tell me about it. No, don’t. I’m having lunch.” I grab my sandwich bag and head outside across the parking lot.
Suckhole speed-hops after me. “I never meant for things to get so weird. That awful stuff — I don’t know how it happened.”
“It happened because you did it.”
“So fine, be like that. Blame me for everything. You’re perfect and I’m horrible and I got you in trouble. But I want to make things right.”
“Like hell. What do you really want?”
Suckhole goes sobby. “Only to invite you to a party Saturday night.”
“Nice try. There isn’t even going to be a party, is there? You want to get me all excited and when I show up to wherever, there won’t be anybody there and you’ll laugh at me like you always do.”
“I won’t!” Suckhole pulls out a Kleenex. “Dylan’s throwing a surprise party for Ricky making the football team. There’ll just be a couple of guys plus me, Katie and Caitlyn. The guys are bringing him out at eleven o’clock after the late show. Come with me.”
“What’s the deal?”
“There’s no deal.”
“There is too. No way you want to bring me to a party.”
“Okay, you’re right, I don’t.” She stuffs the Kleenex back in her pocket. “But apparently Ricky likes you, don’t ask me why. He’s told me a million times to apologize for the granny stuff. I’m like, seriously? Only he’s Dylan’s friend. If you’re there ’cause of me, he’ll be off my case. But stay home, fine, I’ll live. In fact, forget I asked.” She tosses her hair and hops back across the asphalt.
My feet twist like crazy. So Ricky did tell her to apologize. What he said, it’s true. “Madi! Wait!” I catch up. “Okay, fine, I’ll come.”
“Too late. You had your chance.”
“I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”
She keeps hopping like she can’t hear me.
I open the door for her. “I mean it. Bring me to the party and I’ll tell Ricky you apologized. I’ll even say you meant it.”
“Shh!” She stops, really cross, as people pass us. “It’s a surprise! You want the world to know?”
“Sorry, sorry.”
“That’s what you always say. But fine.”
“Thanks. There’s just one little problem. How do I get to Dylan’s farm?”
“You mean we have to drive you?” she asks
like I’m three.
“Please? I can sneak out after Mom and Dad are in bed.”
“When’s that?”
“Ten.”
“That’s cutting it close.”
“I know, but I’m grounded except for school, remember?”
“Fine.” She rolls her eyes like it’s totally not. “Dylan and I will be in his dad’s SUV at the park down from your place at ten fifteen. We have to be back to Dylan’s before Ricky, so if you’re late, we leave without you. And not another word or you’re uninvited.”
I nod Okay.
For the rest of the day, I float around the halls. I bump into Ricky after the final bell.
“Good to see you back.” He shoots me his special grin. “How was your suspension?”
“Fine.” I blush. “Guess you saw my so-called fight?”
He shakes his head. “I’d gone outside to study for a history test.”
“Good. It was kind of embarrassing.”
“She deserved it. Anyway, have to get my bus.” He waves. “See you later.”
“Yeah.” Tomorrow at your party, ha ha. I picture us finding ourselves in a private corner accidentally on purpose. I picture us hugging. I picture — Breathe. Breathe.
18
Saturday morning, I pull a shopping bag down from the back of my top shelf. Inside is a skirt and halter top I bought with last year’s Christmas money. Mom said no way I could wear them — “The skirt’s too high and the top’s too low.” — but I refused to take them back and they’ve been there ever since.
I’ve grown a bit, so the skirt’s even shorter and the top’s tighter. Perfect. Unless my parents catch me wearing them. They won’t. But if? Okay, they’ll kill me, but I’ll already be dead for sneaking out so who cares?
I also think about makeup. I want to wear some for Ricky, only I’m scared to do it wrong. There’s a starter kit in the bottom of my underwear drawer that Mom got for me after Aunt Jess got one for Suckhole. First day I had it, I ran to Suckhole for tips. She looked at me like, Don’t you know anything? Mom tried to help, only she was such a back seat driver I ended up looking like the Joker.
From then on, I made a big deal about not wanting to look fake. “How about not looking ugly?” Suckhole said. Ha ha, only now I wish I’d listened. I wish I’d practised. I go to YouTube and click on Applying Mascara like a Pro and Do-It-Yourself Beauty Tips. Maybe it’s not so hard after all.
The Way Back Home Page 6